Let’s Not Sugarcoat It- BLM Is Essential, Period
Why does BLM matter? Let’s have a real conversation—one that isn’t choked by politeness, one where we can finally drop the act.
BLM matters because Black people are dying. Black people are being locked up, shut out of opportunity, and their voices are drowned by centuries of white supremacy dressed up as “normal” American life.
If you don’t feel this deep in your bones yet, let me talk to you as a human, woman to woman, sister to sister, neighbor to neighbor—a person who can’t look away, even when it would be easier to just “tune out.”
Because BLM isn’t a trend or a “moment.”
It’s the most desperate, necessary call for dignity and safety in our lifetime.
Black Lives- More Than Slogans, More Than Hashtags
I’ve lost sleep over names I never knew—Black men, women, queer folks murdered or disappeared or beaten to silence, and no amount of media-speak or PR gloss can hide it.
You have to say their names sometimes in the shower, in the car, between sips of morning coffee, because you feel shame that their lives—beautiful, complicated, real—might become hashtags more than history.
I’m not here for slogans; I’m here because the world, as it is, doesn’t just “mistreat” Black people. It devours them. I refuse to brush that off.
If BLM makes someone uncomfortable, then it’s not the slogan at fault—it’s the rot inside a culture that can’t stand to value Black life.
Why BLM Matters for Me—And Should for You
My own journey supporting BLM came on slow, like learning to hear music in a new key.
As a woman, someone who’s cut the cord with the whole “American dream” bullshit, I know what it feels like to be unsafe.
But that’s nothing compared to being seen as dangerous, criminal, unworthy—just because of your skin color. BLM called my bluff.
It made me look at my comfortable silences and ask: What good am I as a feminist if I ignore Black women’s pain?
Can I ever really be a women if I don’t fight for Black trans folks dying twice over—from racism and from the neglect of movements that claim to uplift all of us? No way.
That’s not solidarity; that’s fraud.
For me, BLM is not “support from a distance.”
It’s a promise to show up, to lose friends, to confront my own family, and to reject every snow-white-washed wave of denial.
The Real Reason “All Lives Matter” Makes Me See Red
You know what phrase makes me want to throw a shoe at the wall?
“All Lives Matter.” If you drop that phrase at a family dinner, let me tell you, I will not smile and nod and swallow it.
The entire point of Black Lives Matter is that Black lives have never—seriously, never—been treated as if they truly matter. The history isn’t that complicated.
BLM isn’t saying “only Black lives matter”; it’s screaming into a world that acts, daily, as if they don’t.
If you can’t acknowledge that, if your instinct is to center yourself or dilute the truth or protect white feelings, then you are part of the problem.
The minute you catch yourself thinking “But what about…”—stop. Listen.
Sit with how it feels to realize you’ve been fed lies all your life about fairness in this country.
Feminism Without BLM? That’s Not Feminism
Some of you reading this have called yourselves feminists. You fight for abortion rights, equal pay, consent culture—and you should.
But if you leave Black women behind, you’re not moving us forward, you’re stepping on the gas while leaving the most vulnerable on the street.
Black trans women are killed at appalling rates, ignored by police, failed by shelters and hospitals. If we allow racism to infect feminism, it’s over.
Our struggle isn’t worth a damn if it only helps those with privilege.
When I see BLM in action—women and queer folks taking the mic, centering Black joy and grief—I know I’ve got to show all the way up for that.
I talk more about intersectionality and the roots of BLM in my post “Here’s What I Learned Digging Into BLM’s Real History” if you want to actually understand the links, not just nod along.
BLM Is a Test of Our Integrity—Not a “Woke Trend”
Here’s a thing no one with corporate money wants to admit: BLM is a litmus test for whether we mean anything we say about justice or not.
You’ll see advertisers slap a BLM sticker on a sneaker while paying their Black workers poverty wages.
You’ll see people tweet #BlackLivesMatter on Friday nights, then treat a Black woman at work like her ideas are less-than every Monday.
That’s not just hypocrisy; it’s a cancer on everyone who cares about justice.
Supporting BLM isn’t about signaling, it’s about renovating your soul, daily, to stop propping up a system that normalizes Black pain.
Don’t Tell Me “It’s Not My Problem”
The most chilling, gutless thing you’ll ever hear is, “It’s not my problem.”
Racism is everyone’s problem. It runs your schools, your banks, your hospitals, your favorite clothing brands, your government, your very own neighborhood watch group.
Silence about BLM is siding with the enemy—that’s not hyperbole.
To not act, to turn away, means you’re cool with a society that literally profits from Black bodies as prison labor, as criminalized children, as “problems” that eat up local news headlines.
I wrote about how I refuse to stay silent in “Calling Out Racism: Here’s How I Never Stay Silent Anymore”—because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
How BLM Connects to Every Fight That Matters
Look—I’m childfree myself, by choice.
I believe every woman should be free to live her own life, parent or not, with zero apology. For Black women, that’s not freedom at all.
Medical racism keeps Black moms dying at triple the white rate in the U.S.
Their children walk into schools already labeled as “dangerous.” Safe parenting? Safe living? Try doing that with the entire system stacked against you.
So if you’re pro-choice, pro-freedom, pro-dignity, guess what? You are already tied to BLM whether you see it or not.
Add being queer, disabled, working class, undocumented—you’ll find yourself at the same protest sooner or later.
The liberation of Black lives is bound up with everyone’s right to be safe and whole.
When BLM Is Under Attack, The Reason Is Obvious
Every time a politician tries to trash BLM, every time a cop union acts like being held accountable is some wild idea, every time there’s a coordinated media frenzy about “riots” instead of the violence that caused them—you see it, right?
They’re scared. Racist power structures will do anything to make BLM look scary/inaccurate/irrelevant.
But if your comfort depends on a movement shutting up about Black pain, then your comfort is built on blood. And I want no part of that.
I want to see who’s trying to silence BLM, and then I want to be twice as loud.
The fact that there is so much institutional panic about BLM will always prove how much we need BLM.
What Real Support for BLM Actually Looks Like
You want to know what I really think?
BLM requires discomfort. It requires you to mess up, apologize, learn, and do better.
It needs you not just to post but to donate, to vote differently, to raise hell at work, to have the conversation that ruins Thanksgiving dinner.
BLM matters so much it must be action, over and over. True support is showing up body and soul, even when you’re tired or outnumbered or scared of being “too radical.”
For practical steps that aren’t performative, I urge you to check out “How I’m Choosing to Support BLM—And How You Can Too.”
We don’t have the luxury of being passive.
Reparations Matter. Justice Isn’t Just Penance, It’s Repair.
I’m nothing if not practical—give me solutions! Until we get serious about reparations, every other BLM “win” is half-baked.
You cannot steal labor, destroy families, lock up Black fathers, steal generational wealth, and say “oops, let’s move on.”
BLM demands, not requests, actual payback. Investment. A new system. Reparations are about making the descendants of enslavement and exclusion whole.
This isn’t radical, it’s righteous. Not to mention, it’s the only way to ever build trust and healing.
Every other major democracy that faced national abuse (look at Germany, South Africa) paid up in some form.
If BLM is the voice, then reparations are the follow-through—no more lip service, no more empty apologies without repair.
Why BLM Feels Personal—Even If You’re Not Black
Before you shut this blog and think, “She’s too intense, I’m not directly impacted”—know that BLM isn’t a matter of personal experience, it’s a matter of human decency.
I grew up baking casseroles for neighbors and learning to say “please” and “thank you.”
But when you see Black kids killed by police, Black mothers marching for their sons and daughters, Black folks blocked from basic rights—how can you let the world keep turning that way?
If you enjoy anything—your job security, the ability to walk in your neighborhood and be seen as “safe,” the ability to speak up without being stereotyped—it’s because a system made you privileged.
BLM is a knife slicing through that illusion. It asks: Are you as good as you say you are, or are you just coasting?
You Don’t Get to Sit This Out
Maybe you have family that spews “Blue Lives” nonsense. Maybe your college friends post “All Lives” memes.
Maybe your boss rolls eyes every time the word “racism” comes up. You don’t get to hide behind politeness or “I’m just not political.”
You are in this. BLM matters because, without your choice, you’ve been made a player in this country’s story. The question is which side you’ll be remembered for.
Doing nothing—or doing not quite enough—is a decision, not an accident. BLM needs you to pick a side, loudly.
Rage, Grief, Hope—What It Feels Like To Invest In BLM
Let’s be honest about the emotional whiplash. Some days, supporting BLM feels like pure, righteous anger. On others, it’s heartbreak that builds for weeks, especially after new footage hits social media.
Sometimes it’s hope, when you see the power of protest or the ripple of real change—an officer fired, a bill passed, a company forced to divest.
Sometimes it’s pure exhaustion, the kind that makes you question if any of it is worth it, if the cycles of violence ever break. But every time you question, remember:
Black folks live with this, generation after generation. The least allies can do is not quit out of fatigue.
Solidarity Is a Practice, Not a Status
People ask a lot: “How do I prove I’m a real ally?” Here’s a secret: don’t even try to “prove” it. Just show up. Mess up. Admit mistakes—use your privilege to leverage real change. Center Black voices.
When BLM calls, answer. When organizations need money, give. When a friend missteps, educate them (and yourself).
Solidarity is not a badge, it’s a daily grind, a muscle that only works if you work it. Some days you’ll feel like an imposter.
That’s normal. Everyone is learning. But silence, passivity, or comfort—those are the true enemies of BLM.
How BLM Changed the Way I Fight for Justice
Honestly, nothing shaped my politics, feminism, or queer activism more than BLM.
When you see how racism poisons every system—housing, education, healthcare, even environmental justice—you realize every other movement is empty if it isn’t anti-racist.
I can’t fight for bodily autonomy if Black women’s healthcare is a warzone. I can’t celebrate Pride if Black trans folks are murdered just for being themselves.
I can’t say “all kids matter” if Black children are criminalized and denied opportunity.
You’ll see those intersections everywhere—the real work starts when you decide that BLM is your cause, too.
If You’re Still Hesitant—Let Me Be Real
Let’s say you’re reading and feeling uneasy, or resentful, or even guilty.
That’s okay, you’re not irredeemable. I just want you to sit in that discomfort for five minutes. Ask yourself: Why is this hard to accept?
What stories was I raised with about “good neighborhoods” or “law and order”?
When was the last time I called out a racist joke, or donated to a Black-led cause, or challenged a system instead of a stranger? BLM matters because it forces confession.
We hold up a mirror, and if we’re honest, we see ourselves—complicit, sometimes silent, and always able to do better.
What If More of Us Showed Up for BLM?
The future I want is one where BLM is not a separate fight—it’s the basic expectation.
Instead of “good white people” being the exception, they’re the rule.
Instead of Black siblings fearing for their lives every time they see flashing lights, they feel protected. Instead of liberation being doled out in crumbs, it’s a feast.
That only happens if we all—not just the most radical or the most outspoken—commit to this every day. You don’t need permission. You just need guts.
Where You Go From Here
My wish is for you to leave this blog angry, inspired, restless—whatever it takes for you to commit to BLM, today and always. No more sitting on the fence. No more “not my problem.” BLM matters. If you want some real receipts, you can also check out my stories:
- Here’s What I Learned Digging Into BLM’s Real History
- Calling Out Racism: Here’s How I Never Stay Silent Anymore
- How I’m Choosing to Support BLM—And How You Can Too
- What Reparations Really Mean—And How We Can Make It Happen
Take the next step, however hard or awkward. This movement is for everyone ready to fight for a world where Black lives actually, finally, fully matter.
Here’s Where I Want to Hear From You
Did this post make you think in a new way? How do you feel about BLM now?
Please leave a comment with your thoughts—even if you disagree! I want to know what you honestly think.
If you believe this work matters and you want blogs like this to keep happening, will you please think about donating to help support this site?
Every bit helps. Thank you for caring, for reading, and for being part of the change.